Smile
by black.tinker.bell
Summary: Sometimes, even the most simple thing is enough.


**_A/N:_** _Bleahhh, I had to make it short -.-'' And be gentle, I'm in this fandom for the first time._

_**Smile**_

"Gaara?"

"Go away."

"We... We're going to—"

"I said, _go_ _away_."

Outside, he could hear the children playing. Inside, everything was silent. It was one of those summer days, with no cloud in the sky, not a breeze of the wind; the air itself seemed to be heavy and pressing down on everything and everyone, it seemed to be difficult to breathe. Even with all the windows open, the room was still too warm. Absentmindedly, Gaara walked towards the window. Temari was walking through the yard and to the gate, where her other brother was waiting for her. Her true brother, as Gaara couldn't really classify as one. And he was trying, although nobody could see, he really was. He just wasn't sure what to do, he didn't know what being a brother felt like.

On a nearby playground, about a dozen kids were playing, and only one of them was sitting aside, on an old swing. An outsider, one whom nobody wanted in their team, someone who was always alone. Gaara still remember the squeaking sound the swing made when it moved. He knew what being unloved felt like.

It was Temari's birthday today. Everyone was getting her presents, hugging her, kissing her, making her feel good. And Gaara... didn't know what to do. His birthday was never celebrated. He wasn't even sure he knew when it was. He didn't really care. From his experience so far, he was sure no one would bring him a present anyway. Maybe his sister, or brother...

Gaara pressed his forehead to the wall next to the window, and closed his eyes. Those children... they were still playing, he could hear them. And more clearly than their shouts and screams, he could still here the swing going back and forth. And he was no longer sure if it was for real, or if it was just in his head; if it was that other kid, or if it was him on the swing; he didn't know anymore. And it didn't really matter. What mattered was that the swing was occupied; there was a new Gaara, to take the old one's place.

--

"What are you doing here?"

The boy jumped a little and turned his head around. A pair of seemingly cold, light green eyes was staring right back at him. Gaara took a step back, and tried to smile at the boy, whom he felt like he knew from somewhere.

"I mean, why are you here?" he asked quietly, "Why are you not with the others, playing or... whatever?"

The boy looked away. He mumbled something in response, shrugging one shoulder. "It's my birthday today, you know," the boy said, louder this time, and looking up. "But... everyone forgot about it. Even my sister."

Gaara didn't know what to answer, had no idea how to help. And he wanted to, he just didn't know how. He didn't know if he should say something, or change the subject. Even after all the years he'd spent at that very same place, doing the exact same thing as this boy now; he still couldn't help. He knew he was supposed to say something to make the boy feel better, but he didn't know what. There were just so many things that could be said, too many of them wrong.

"I'm sure it's not so bad," Gaara eventually said, hoping that was a good thing to say.

The boy was watching the other children play again. In his eyes, Gaara could see the wish to join, to just stand up and walk to them... and not be rejected. The swing was crying quietly, moving forward and back again just the slightest bit. The boy's feet were barely touching the ground, his toes brushing over it and lifting a cloud of sand around his feet. Standing there, watching him, Gaara realized why he felt like he knew the boy from somewhere. Because he did, in some way, he was, somehow, connected to this boy; because he was just like him.

Gaara turned around on his heels and started to walk away, suddenly scared of the little child in front of him. For some reason, or maybe more of them, which he didn't understand or know, he was afraid of seeing someone just like himself; it felt like going back in time, and standing in front of a mirror. He was afraid that if he stayed there any longer, he would hurt this boy, the boy who was him in so many ways. Because, those who stay, eventually leave. And sometimes it's not their leaving that hurts, it's the feeling of having had someone with you, but having lost them for some reason, and you just know that that reason may as well have been you, for you see no other explanation. And that was what hurt. And that was what Gaara knew the difficulty of. And that was what he was running away from; subconsciously or not, also running away from himself.

"Wait!" he heard, from behind himself. "_Don't leave me alone!_"

Gaara's eyes went slightly wider, and he stopped, more from shock, than from the wish to. It was no longer the boy who was calling him, he was now listening to his own voice, his own words, wishes, things he wanted so much, but never got. He was no longer Gaara, walking away from a nameless child on an old swing; he was a stranger, walking away on the redhead boy named Gaara, walking away just like everyone else always did.

_Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone anymore..._

"I... I'm always alone," the boy whispered. "When it rains... and when it's sunny... and on holidays, too! ...even when it's my birthday. Always."

Gaara closed his eyes, trying to stop the memories, that were flooding his mind.

"Will you just... sit here with me?"

Gaara stared at the ground and his own feet, not wanting to look up and reveal to an innocent passerby that he was having a hard time stopping himself from falling apart. "How would that..." he started, talking around the lump in his throat. "How would that make you feel any better?" he asked.

The boy was looking at him with pleading eyes, he seemed to be trying to hold Gaara in place by only looking at him. "Sometimes... even the most simple thing... is enough..."

Gaara turned around again. The boy was rubbing his nose onto the back of his palm, afraid to look up, and be pushed away, or left, once more. "Sometimes..." Gaara answered quietly, repeating the rest of the sentence in his head. Sometimes... He sat on the other swing, next to the boy.

That day, the swings were silent, even when they moved. That day, they didn't have anyone to cry for.

--

Late evening found Gaara behind the closed door to his room again, staring out the window. It was dark outside already, and the yard around the house, as well as the nearby playground, were empty and soundless. The nights, unlike the days, were cold, and with the wind blowing outside, like now, even colder. Even so, Gaara could still here voices outside; someone was out, even on a cold night, like this. Gaara's sister, and brother, however, had come home long ago, at dusk; all smiles and chit-chat, happy. Gaara saw them coming and retreated to his room before they even entered the house. He was strangely ashamed of being in their company; it made him feel worthless and pathetic, as he was unable to join their conversations, or even follow what they were talking about, he couldn't even laugh at the same things as them; he couldn't be anything like them.

He knew he wasn't at all like them. He thought they didn't like that. They seemed to think him weird, even sometimes scary. He acted as though that was what he wanted, but deep down, he wanted something else. But he had no idea how to get it. He'd seen other brothers and sisters, how they played, talked, hung out; but when he was in the same situations, he didn't know what to say or do, and not make it the wrong thing. He didn't understand his own feelings or thoughts, and he couldn't even begin to understand his siblings', and to him, it looked like understanding was the most important thing. Never having understood, nor been understood, he was now confused, by trying to understand others.

A soft knock on the door made him turn around and look away from the empty street in front of their house. At first, he couldn't hear anyone from the other side, but then the person knocked again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer, or not; he was not in the mood for talking, but for once in his life, he didn't want to seem cruel.

"Y-Yeah?" he answered uncertainly.

"It's me," Temari answered from the other side. "I was wondering if... if you wanted to come down and join us?" she asked politely. "We're having cake now... I thought you might wanna try it," she added, leaning against the door and pressing her ear to it, in expectation of another hesitant and quiet answer.

"I don't want to be in anyone's way."

Temari sighed. She turned her back on the door, and leaned against it, sliding down and sitting on the floor. "You know... I never thought of you as someone getting in others' way..." Gaara took a step closer to the door. He pressed a hand to its rough surface and stroked down it. "We missed you today, you know," Temari went on. "We were at the center square..."

_Sometimes... even the most simple thing... is enough..._

"Temari?" Gaara asked, pressing a hand to the door's rough surface, stopping her in the middle of the sentence; she didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah?" she answered, standing up.

Gaara unlocked the door and opened them. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, he was afraid of what he'd see in his sister's eyes. Was she angry with him, for not being with her more? Was she disappointed? Hurt? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"You know..." she started, and he looked up on reflex. She reached out and touched his forehead with one finger. "It's there for a reason." (kanji on Gaara's forehead - love)

"What do you mean?"

"You were... are loved. You just don't see it," she explained, smiling.

--

"I... I want to give you a present," Gaara said, leaning his back against the closed door of his sister's room. It was nearly midnight, and he'd woken her up; now she was sitting on the edge of her bed and all he could see was her silhouette, but he knew she was listening carefully. "I didn't know what to get," he admitted. "But... someone told me that sometimes, the most simple thing is enough."

"That's true," Temari whispered. "I've always only wanted one present from you anyway," she added, standing up and walking towards him. She took a match from her nightstand and lit the lantern on the wall. Gaara looked at her questioningly. "I just want a smile. I haven't seen you smile in far too long," she answered.

"I might have forgotten how to do that," Gaara answered, his expression not changing.

"Then I'll help you remember," she said, smiling at him.

Gaara stared at her face, not blinking. He really did not remember when was the last time he smiled. He remembered others smiling at him, before they recognized him. But then... everyone would leave. He would be left alone, sitting on the same swing every day. And, as there was no point in smiling to himself, he never smiled.

_Sometimes... even the most simple thing... is enough..._

"You've grown, little brother," Temari whispered, killing the lights. For a moment, Gaara was confused. Then he realized, that he was smiling. A small, childish smile, but a real one, and honest.

He heard the floorboards squeak as Temari went back to bed. He walked out slowly, still smiling. It was as if he'd never left the room; he was trapped in that one moment when he smiled, and his sister was smiling at him... and it felt good, and right, unlike before. He touched his own forehead.

_You were... are loved. You just don't see it._

His smile grew wider and his eyes glistened in the dark of his own room, now. Because, sometimes, even the most simple thing, is enough. And because now, at least he understood some things. He didn't have to understand them all, or to know everything. It was the thought that counted, after all.

--

Temari looked up from her breakfast when she heard someone walking in. "Good morning," Gaara said, giving her a small, one moment's smile. She smiled back at him happily.

_**A/N: **Don't own and anything, and all that... I'm too lazy to type -.-_


End file.
